


Stars Have Died So That You May Live

by middlefingersup



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Photographer!Louis, University AU, if this progresses, musician!harry, the others will be brought in as this progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 22:28:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlefingersup/pseuds/middlefingersup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"<i>Harry manages to send off a text to his best friend before they get into the gallery and the attendant tells him no phones allowed. It says:</i></p><p><i>I think I just met the boy I’m going to spend the rest of my life with, I hope you’re happy for me x</i>"</p><p>Living in London and being a photography student, Louis has met a lot of gorgeous guys in his time. They don't effect him the way they used to but, well, Harry's always been an exception hasn't he? </p><p>Alternatively titled: the one where Louis is a photography student and he meets a very lost Harry who's clearly too sweet for a city full of cynics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stars Have Died So That You May Live

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a chaptered fic if I can stick with it, I have a bit of the plot roughed out.

Louis cradles his camera protectively to his chest, still somehow managing to keep it safe while he digs in the back pocket of his impossibly tight skinny jeans, fingertips seeking out his oyster card. It takes a minute of intense concentration in the middle of Paddington Station, the rush hour workers blurring by until he snatches the card between his index and middle fingers, yanking it out victoriously.

He frowns at the balance on his card when he passes through the gates, shoving his card back in his pocket, using his spare hand to cover his iPhone where it’s seemingly impossibly squeezed into the tight space of his jeans. Zayn’s wallet had been pickpocketed the other week so Louis is taking no risks. He feels his phone buzz but he leaves it, sighing and yelling excuse me loudly at a bunch of tourists on the escalator that have blatantly ignored the “please keep to the right” sign.

Louis doesn’t like to think of himself as one of _those_  kind of Londoners, the ones that shoulder-barge people when they’re getting off the tube, but he’s running out of patience today. He has to wait out two tubes, crammed so full Louis doesn’t even considered getting on.

Thankfully there’s a brief lull in the rush so Louis can get on the next train, delighted when he spots two guys he can photograph opposite him. They have brightly coloured hair and patches sewn on their jackets, tartan jeans somehow tighter than Louis’, platform boots putting them over a whole head taller than him. Louis isn’t one to be deterred, they’re too interesting-looking to let the opportunity pass.

“S’cuse me,” Louis says, going with the sway of the tube like a pro, mood lifting when he sees several piercings in each of the men’s faces when they look up at him. “Would I be able to take your picture for a uni project?”

The one with bright blue hair spiked up into a mohawk speaks, “O’ course mate, what’s your project ‘bout?”

“’Av to take a hundred pictures of an ‘undred interestin’ people of London.”

They happily pose for the photo, sticking their tongues out to show off tongue studs. Louis thanks them both and they get off at the next station. It’s a short trip to Oxford Circus, Louis wants to target the high-fashion types today. They always have an interesting style choice, good to photograph.

Louis was delighted when the first project of his last year of uni was this.

He replies to Zayn’s text of ‘ _Oi were u goin to get pics of ppl today?? no idea where to start n to hungover to think properly_ ’ with ‘ _a magician never reveals his secrets darling_ ’ to which he gets back ‘ _> :(( m gonna use the last of ur milk u prick_'.

Louis is going to text back but then he notices Oxford Circus is the next stop, getting his oyster card out in preparation. He makes it out of the station with a depressing oyster balance but his camera and phone are intact so he can’t complain.

He gives some change to a homeless man who lets him take his photo, telling him “speak the truth even if your voice shakes,” when Louis asks him one piece of advice he’d tell a class of people. He thanks him and wishes him the best.

He checks the picture to make sure it’s decent, walking along a few steps out of instinct of going with the rush of people. When he’s satisfied with the image he settles his camera strap back around his shoulder, leaning against a bus stop and people watching for a minute.

London is full of a lot of gorgeous people, they seem to collect in the centre of the city so Louis has generally learnt not to be too affected by attractive men anymore otherwise he’d never get anything done. Apparently he’s not completely immune.

A guy stumbles out of the underground station and Louis’ eyes go a little wide. He’s- Louis can only see his profile because the guy is staring intently at his phone screen, bottom lip snatched between his teeth. Louis is drawn to him. He’s seen a lot of hot men in his time but this guy, there’s something different. He has a dimple poking into his cheek, curly hair tucked up into a beanie and a jawline to kill for but when he turns so Louis can see him head on he looks so lost and young.

Louis wants to take his picture.

He has absolutely no problem approaching mister tall-and-gorgeous, catching his eye before he’s even in front of him. The guys fucking smiles at him. He smiles and his whole face lights up, eyes sparkling like something from a cartoon; _there is no way this boy is real_ , Louis thinks.

As Louis comes face to face with him he slips his camera strap off his shoulder, so preoccupied by the miles of legs on this guy that his grip fumbles on the plastic. His life pretty much flashes before his eyes when his precious camera falls from his fingers.

By some absolute miracle, that Louis must have done something incredible in a previous life to deserve, mister sent-from-the-heavens only manages to catch his camera. Louis lets out a massive sigh of relief, fingers brushing with the guy’s when he gives it back to Louis.

“Oops.” Mister carved-from-marble says.

 _Fuck_ , Louis thinks. _His voice_. It’s slow and deep, rumbles in his chest, catching Louis off guard. Thankfully he manages to gather himself pretty quickly, determined not to stumble over his words in front of this guy or, you know, break his one precious possession.

“Hi. Um, cheers. You just saved my life y’ have no idea. That camera is my baby.”

Then he laughs, deep and throaty, lips stretching out into a wide smile. He’s far too charming, _I’m going to die_ , Louis thinks dramatically.

“’S no problem.”

“This might sound a bit strange but can I maybe take a picture of you?”

Even if he fucks this up massively he _needs_ this guy in his portfolio. There’s no way he can possibly take a bad picture of him. The guy half smiles.

“Sure.”

It takes Louis a little longer than normal to get his camera turned on and on the right settings, having to adjust the shutter speed because the sun’s decided to peek out from behind the clouds, making the display of his camera too bright.

“Not gonna ask why?” Louis says, carefully adjusting the lens.

“Nope.” He pops the p, clasps his hands together in front of him and rocks back onto the heels of his suede boots, watching Louis’ nimble fingers twist the focus and take a test shot of the street behind him.

Finally satisfied he’s got the aperture right mister gorgeous-and-lovely stands properly when Louis points his camera up at him, making a peace sign with his hand when Louis glances through the viewfinder and takes the picture. When he looks at the display to check it’s decent he decides straight away it’s by far his favourite photograph out of the twenty or so he’s taken so far. 

 

 

 

This guy photographs like a model and he’s not even trying. Louis chews on the inside of his cheek and locks the picture to make sure he can’t delete it accidentally. He slips his camera strap carefully over his shoulder and produces a little notebook and pen from his battered rucksack, flicks to a new page for a new person, and asks his name. 

Harry tells him in return for Louis’. Louis writes “Harry” extra neatly at the top of the page.

“So then Harold if you could, what piece of advice would you give to a large group of people?”

“Get lost in London and you’ll meet well fit guys.” Louis barks out a startled laugh, delighted that the most attractive guy he’s seen in a long time is flirting. “Seriously though?” Louis nods. “My advice is hmm-“ he pauses, “Ah, never accidentally use lube as toothpaste.”

Louis dissolves into giggles, covering his mouth with his hand. It takes a few seconds for him to collect himself enough to write that down under Harry’s name, writing a bit jarred.

“You ‘m so gonna regret that as y’ quote when I display this picture massively with that written underneath it.”

Harry’s eyes go a bit wide but then he just shrugs and makes a face, smiling sweetly.

“If I prevent even one person from making the same mistake as me my suffering will be worthwhile.” He says sagely, nodding his head at his own advice.

Louis refuses to believe this boy actually exists.

“So,” Harry continues, “Art student huh?”

“I take high offence that you already have me pinned as an art student.” Louis turns his nose up snootily, folding his arms over his chest.

Thankfully Harry can sense the sarcasm.

“The camera and the red trousers were a massive giveaway.” He grins, gesturing at Louis’ legs.

Louis looks down and only just remembers that he is indeed wearing bright red skinny jeans.

“Say what you like mister king-of-the-hipsters but these babies have paid for themselves in drinks.”

“Heeeey.” Harry whines.

Louis isn’t quite willing to let go of this boy yet.

“So, where are you actually supposed to be then? Cause I’d bet my arse you’re lost as all hell.”

“Shouldn’t bet on priceless things, it’s irresponsible.” Harry smirks. Oh Louis likes this boy, he’s missed flirting. “National gallery,” Harry says, “Don’t have a single clue how I even ended up here t’ be honest. ‘Ve only been ‘ere a week, still can’t get my head ‘round the tube. The map was designed by satan.”

Louis can relate; it took him at least a month to figure out how to read the map, even longer to know which lines to get without having to check where they go.

“National gallery? ‘S all the way by Trafalgar so y’ need Leicester Square station. How on _earth_ did you manage to get here?”

Harry frowns down at his iPhone.

“My GPS is a lying little meanie that’s intent to see my suffering.”

“Never trust iPhone maps. I learnt that lesson pretty quickly. ’Ave you moved down ‘ere?”

Harry nods, teeth sunk into his lip. Holy shit, Louis wants to kiss him so much it might be a problem.

“First week of uni.”

 _God must be real_ , Louis thinks.

Louis’ face lights up then, delighted when he realizes Harry’s obviously an art student too, oh Louis is going to give him _so much shit_.

“Art student!” He proclaims, pointing an accusing finger at Harry.

Harry laughs.

“Wrong. Music major.”

 _God dammit, that explains the hands._ Louis’ mind goes to bad places.

“Fuck I thought for sure. Wait why are you s’posed to be at the national gallery then?”

“Um, our first assignment is,” Harry pauses digging a crumpled up piece of paper out of his back pocket. “Write a poem about a place that inspires us. So national gallery it is.”

“Well I was gonna head over there in a bit? They’re showing Van Gogh’s Sunflowers so I wanted t’ go an’ see them. If y’ willing to suffer wandering down ‘ere-“ Louis gestures at the busy street. “In my presence f’ a bit then I can take you there.”

“Suffer your presence? Louis it would be my absolute _honour_.” Harry says, bowing and then holding his arm out for Louis to take.

Fucking hell. He’s a real life Disney prince; Zayn will not believe this in a million years.

Louis takes a picture of his camera screen and sends it to Zayn with the caption _'fuck me sideways look at this boy'_. He texts back ' _where the fuck did u find him u lucky shit. u should b askin him to fuck u sideways not me xoxoxo'_.

He strolls Oxford Circus with Harry and gets a picture of a woman with a hat that can not possibly fit through any regular doorway. She tells him “high fashion does not come at a low price” when he asks for a piece of advice. He and Harry break down into uncontrollable laughter when she’s out of earshot.

“Oh my gosh that _hat_.” Harry gasps, wiping tears from his eyes. “It looked like it was alive!”

“High fashion, darling.” Louis says in a snobby voice, gesturing to his imaginary hat.

He gets a picture of a man called Jeff who’s wearing a pink cocktail dress and black, glittery heels taller than Louis. He has the most perfect winged eyeliner Louis has ever seen in his life. He tells him “Don’t let anyone dull your sparkle.” He’s fantastic, Louis thinks.

Harry is wonderfully accepting of it all, waving goodbye to the guy and telling Louis he has massive respect for anyone who can walk in heels that high and not break a bone.

He and Harry talk about uni and Louis promises him it’s a lot easier after the first couple of months, to which Harry looks immensely relieved. He admits that he’s really nervous about it not working out because his mother wanted him to study law. Louis tells him there’s no way he’d have stuck it out if he doesn’t care about it, that you really need a passion for what you’re studying.

They stop off in Starbucks, upon Harry’s insistence, when the morning rush has died down. Louis takes great pleasure in feigning a coughing fit and slipping the word hipster in there. Harry pokes him in the side.

“Fine if you’re so very opposed to the idea of Starbucks then I definitely don’t need to buy you a drink.”

Louis shuts up and lets Harry order him a hazelnut hot chocolate.

They decide to sit outside because it’s surprisingly warm for September and, much to Harry’s dismay, he trips over a dog on the way to a free table. Louis holds Harry’s tea while he apologizes to the owner then crouches down to stroke the dog. He only goes and apologizes to the dog too. Louis doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone as sweet. He can’t quite believe the serendipity of the situation.

Louis doodles butterflies on a napkin while they drink.

“I have a tattoo of a butterfly y’know.” Harry says.

“Oh you do _not_.” Louis breathes in disbelief.

“Do too.” Louis can feel himself go warm when Harry pulls his shirt up. “See.”

Sure enough there’s a massive butterfly bigger than Louis’ hand spayed across the top of his abs.

“Harold!” Louis crows. “I did not have you pinned to be the type to get your kit off on a first date.”

Harry has the decency to blush all the way to his hairline.

They finish up their drinks and Louis tries to educate Harry on the underground while they walk, telling him about all the different lines and where they go. It seems to go straight over Harry’s head because, as soon as they get into the station, Harry is asking which line they have to get. Louis laughs and digs out his oyster card.

“Just follow me and don’t get lost.”

“I can’t possibly lose sight of you when you’re wearing such bright jeans.”

Louis glares.

They get through the gates without losing each other, Harry links their arms together when they’re on the other side. Louis shows him the signs and tries to explain how to read them, showing him how to know which direction you need to get the lines in. Harry looks incredibly confused at it all, it makes Louis want to pinch his cheeks.

Someone shoves past them then, pushing hard into Harry’s shoulder. Harry gasps out a startled sound and frowns, rubbing at the spot where he was elbowed. He doesn’t say anything so Louis yells out.

“Oi dickhead watch where you’re going!”

Harry’s much too sweet for London.

They catch the Bakerloo line to Piccadilly Circus then swap to the Piccadilly line. Harry’s visibly relieved when they get off the second tube and head for the escalators, taking a deep breath when they’re outside in the clean air, away from the stale heat of the underground.

“It does get a lot easier, promise. It confused the shit outta me for a while too.”

“’S just-“ Harry rubs a hand over his face. “A massive difference from home.”

“Yeah I’ll bet.”

Louis manages to get Harry cheered up pretty fast, nearly bouncing off the walls himself by the time they round the corner into Trafalgar Square, stupidly excited to see the sunflowers.

They brush along each other a lot when they walk. Harry’s completely enamoured by the way Louis keeps rambling about Van Gogh, about his use of colour and his passion for the work he was making.

He stares at Louis’ mouth a lot.

Louis notices.

Harry manages to send off a text to his best friend before they get into the gallery and the attendant tells him no phones allowed. It says:  
  
 _'I think I just met the boy I’m going to spend the rest of my life with, I hope you’re happy for me x'_

**Author's Note:**

> Right well basically I'm very notorious for starting chaptered fics and never getting around to finishing them but I'll try and stick this one out. The chapters will be longer after this one, it's just like a little taster I guess to see if people like it so I know if I should even bother carrying it on.


End file.
